Okay so this is an idea that I came up with a while ago and I just got my backside into gear in starting to write it. So yeah, this is the prologue and the Summary ^^' S U M M A R Y The novel I am writing revolves around the lives of 21 year old Grace Mathews and 30 year old Aaron Daniels. Grace is one of the few survivors of the World War 4, along with her brother Michael and a few others. Living out in the plains a few miles north of the City, Grace has adapted a generally peaceful way of living in the five years after the War ended. Most of Earth's major cities have been demolished, and a lot of the Earth's surface is nothing more than a baron wasteland. Food is scarce and water scarcer, in the 'New World', humans are living by the motto "Survival of the Fittest", where the weak are left to die and only the strong survive.And meet Aaron, he is one of the seven sole survivors of the War, after spending a year in one of the remaining and working hospitals, he left with a top of the range mechanical arm, and several cybernetic organs to keep him alive. He disappeared into a sort of hiding, living alone and silently, away from the public eye. On one of his weekly runs for food and water, he witnesses an attack on a young girl; Grace. *** P R O L O G U E The day is August 27th. The year is 2639. War still goes on like a relentless machine. "Get down!" a deep male voice roared loudly into Aaron's ears, and before he got a chance to pinpoint the direction of the voice; the wind was knocked roughly from his lungs as his face was shoved into the dirt, earning him an unwelcome mouthful of gravel, ashes and dirt. Before he got a chance to spit it out, the ground shook from the impact of yet another attack from them, and the sheer force of the impact caused a shock wave that pushed both him and the other with him into a barrel roll into one of the trenches. Cursing, he spat out the dirt from his mouth and rolled over onto his back; looking up into the face of his commander; Eric. "I'm sorry, I didn't even see it coming," Aaron consoled, looking over his shoulder at the small crater he had just been seated in, he shivered, "It won't happen again." "Too f*cking right it won't Aaron," Eric shook his head, he was obviously angry at him, "Because the next time it happens I aint risking my neck to save you. You got that? There's enough of us dead as it is, and I'm pretty sure that the rest of the Soldiers would rather one died than two. So keep your bloody eyes open!" "Yes sir!" the young twenty year old male shouted, reloading the magazine of his gun and getting into a crouch. He followed Eric down the trench, one or two metres behind, mimicking his movements, before ending up on his front behind a wall of sandbags, concrete and clay. There were a few other with them now, Jason and Robert, he remembered them from back in training. This was the first time he'd seen them out on the field though; and from what he could remember in the short amount of time, they were ruthless. They made a good team together, and Aaron was a little relieved to be in their company. It felt somewhat safer, well, as safe as a battlefield could feel, but it was a window of hope none the less. Looking back towards Eric for his commands, he looked through one of the cracks in the clay windows; there must have been more of them on their side than Aaron had on his, but from what they'd been informed, they had better guns and missiles. They also lacked the airborne advantage that they had; all of their air-fighters had been taken out already. They had the upper hand in that department, even if they were outnumbered. "Alright!" Eric's deep voice cut through the chaos, "Robert! Aaron! You're both over there," He pointed several times to the west; over by the walls and the trenches, "Jason, you're with me, now go! Open fire and f*cking move!" Aaron didn't need telling twice, hearing the sound of gunfire right beside him made his limbs move onwards, and dust began to fly as Robert shot at the ground, surrounding them in the dry dust as a cover. They both ran, making a break for the West side, and they could both hear the bullets cutting through the grit in the air around them, with only drove them on. In the few short moments that seemed like hours, Richard and Aaron dove into the sandy, bloodstained trench and opened fire on the opposing side. Aaron figured this would last for a while. ***** "Here love, you drink this up now; get you nice and warm." Emily smiled at the young girl, curled up in the dirty old armchair, as she took the mug of hot coco, and held it up to her face, pressing its warmth against her skin in an attempt to heat herself up. Frowning at the sight, Emily reached for another blanket and moved to place it over the girls lap, "Here you go my girl, put this around you." The young girl looked up from her steaming hot cup to the woman, and she shook her head, "That's your one, mom. I'm warm enough. You'll get cold!" "Oh don't you worry about me Gracie," Emily retorted, placing the blanket across Grace's lap and tucking it around her "You just worry about keeping yourself warm, alright?" Frowning a little, the young 11 year old Grace eventually smiled and nodded, helping to tuck herself in. Looking around the room in the dim light, there was a small, dirty coffee table and a torn and battered sofa; with one of the cushions missing. Multiple boxes lay scattered around the dust covered floor, filled with what few belongings they could manage to carry; a few books, as much food as they could get and a few toys and personal belongings. Looking up suddenly at the sounds of light footsteps outside the door, Emily turned to stand between the doorway and Grace, "You be quiet." Emily ordered in a shaky voice. Standing nervously as she stared at the wooden, makeshift doorway, she let out a breath of relief at the voice that sounded. "It's me Mom, let me in." Quickly moving over to the door, Emily pulled the boxes from in front of it and pulled it open, ushering her son inside. "Are you alright? Did any one see you?" Emily asked in a rushed voice, placing the door back in place and piling up the boxes, "I hate seeing you go out there, Michael, sometimes I think you aren't coming back.." Michael smiled at his mother reassuringly, allowing her to pull him into a tight embrace, "I was fine Mom, I kept out of the way, and nobody saw me come back, I went the back way." "Alright, well that's good, you stay in for the rest of the night now." Nodding, Michael dropped down into the sofa and reached for his blanket, wrapping it around his frame to try and enclose the warmth.